Relationship Speedwagon
by HJB
Summary: Little ficlet about Chuck/Sarah relationship. Moments based on different songs.
1. Can't Fight This Feeling

_AN: I was cleaning today and the cd had a block of REO Speedwagon. The songs reminded me of Chuck/Sarah so I decided to put together a little story. There will be 4 very short chapters. Each has to do with a different song. This is probably the quickest I've written and posted something so feel free to hit me over the head about mistakes._

_WARNING: This will not have a happy ending, but I will have an alternative for those who want it. _

**Relationship Speenwagon: Can't Fight This Feeling**

Sarah's been my handler for over a year now. She's probably the most gorgeous woman I've ever met. Even though I know hardly anything real about her, I believe with every fiber of my being that she is a good person. Her smiles are kind. The concern in her eyes is genuine. She wants to let me in. I know it.

After the turmoil surrounding Bryce's return , even with our handshake of friendship, Sarah was unwaveringly professional in our interactions. I still stole glances at her, however, I wasn't getting the reciprocation of infatuation that I sensed in the past. It looked like a platonic relationship was really all we would ever have.

Everything changed the night of my attempted extraction. She was going to shoot Longshore. I could tell from her stance. That knowledge gave me the courage I needed to take her hands and open myself. She didn't say anything. She didn't really have to use words. I saw something in her eyes that touched me more than any combination of sounds ever could. The woman even got into a dumpster with me. I was hooked. She still tried to maintain a professional distance between us, but I could no longer fight my feelings. All I needed was the perfect opportunity.

Tonight is that chance. Team Bartowski is on a stakeout. Casey is inside the building acting like a maintenance man so that we can secure video footage. Unfortunately, his act was so convincing that one of the manager's put him to work on some other projects. He will be occupied for quite some time.

I take my headphones off and lean back in the SUV's passenger seat. Sarah is in the driver's seat looking at the video surveillance with her handheld monitor. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. She unconsciously bites her lip and I smile. Everything about her blows me away. I take a deep breath before acting.

"Sarah," I say quietly.

"Yeah," she responds, still staring at the monitor.

"Can we talk," I ask.

"Uh huh," she mumbles. I know she's not really listening to me. Anger flares in my chest. This may be the most important conversation of our lives and she doesn't even care. Touching her shoulder, I silently defend her, telling myself that she can't possibly know the ramifications.

"It's important," I urge.

She finally looks me in the eye. There is nothing useful that I can discern from her gaze. "I'm sorry Chuck. What is it?"

I'm suddenly too scared to speak. She just stares at me, waiting. It must have been too long because she looks back to her monitor. I curse myself. Still wanting her to know, the words tumble off of my lips.

"I love you."

Sarah looks at me in shock.


	2. Say You Love Me or Say Goodnight

_AN: I'll finish it up tonigt or tomorrow._

**Relationship Speedwagon: Say You Love Me or Say Goodnight**

When I look back on that night in the SUV, it brings a smile to my face. Sarah put up quite a fight. She could be a lawyer, if she ever gave up on the cloak and dagger business. In the end, I managed to convince her that giving us a shot was her best option. We then had a very scintillating kiss that would have gone on forever, if Casey hadn't chosen that moment to start cursing out the store manager.

We've officially been together for three months. We kept it from Casey, until he found us making out in the Herder. He was surprisingly understanding. I got the feeling that Sarah was holding something over his head. Neither of them would confirm or deny my suspicions. It really wasn't that important to me because Casey promised to keep it out of his reports, as long as we didn't let it affect our missions.

Other than thwarting bomb plots and taking down drug king pins, Sarah and I have managed to be a relatively normal couple. We cook each other dinner. Well, she does most of the cooking, since I fit the stereotypical male mold in the culinary department. I was more than surprised to find out how great she is at cooking. Sometimes, I'll sit in the kitchen and watch her, throwing a 'bam' in every once and a while. The last time I tried it, however, I found a knife lodged in the sheetrock about two inches from my head. She just smiled sweetly at me like it was no big deal. I don't think I will reference Emeril again this decade.

Tonight, I did the cooking and while I was not overly pleased with it, Sarah insisted that it was good, which really just meant it was edible. Ellie and Awesome had night shifts, so it's just the two of us snuggled up on the couch, watching some cheesy Lifetime movie. A commercial comes on and I take the time to plant kisses along Sarah's hairline.

"I love you," I whisper in her ear.

She tenses, before burrowing deeper into my embrace. Her mouth remains shut. My heart constricts. No matter how many reactions I get just like this, I always hope that the next time will be different. Sarah told me that night in the SUV that she was not yet ready to voice her feelings. I accepted her terms because I, myself, had just recently had my revelation. But weeks went by and she barely uttered anything close to a phrase of affection. She is fine when it comes to expressing things physically. Her touches are like magic, sending jolts throughout my body, but those instances aren't enough to assuage my concern. I need to hear her commitment. I'm not a mind reader.

Just as I did that night on our stakeout, I ready myself to have a life changing conversation. Pulling away from Sarah, I wipe my hands up and down my jean covered thighs. My girlfriend looks at me in confusion, her lips slightly parted.

"What's wrong," she asks.

"We need to talk," I answer, physically putting some distance between the two of us.

She stays still, waiting for me to elaborate.

"I need to hear you say you love me or give me some kind a verbal sign that you are in this relationship." My words are said quickly, but my message is clear.

"Chuck," she sighs.

I shake my head. "No. No, oh Chuck. I can't keep initiating everything. I can't pretend that it doesn't hurt when you shut your eyes to my words. If you don't feel that way yet or don't think you ever will, just tell me. Tell me so that I'm not floundering in the Pacific without knowing which direction to swim."

She looks at me intently, studying my soul through my eyes. I hope to god that she can tell how serious I am, that she knows this is a do or die moment. My love for her is great, but everyone has their breaking point. I refuse to have a one-sided romance.

"I've never said it to anyone before," she whispers so softly that I barely hear.

"No one," I ask, incredulous.

She rolls her eyes. "I've said it to family, of course, but never friends or boyfriends."

"There's always a first time for everything," I reassure, taking her hand. I don't want to pressure her to tell me something. I just want her to know that I care.

She flips my palm up and begins to trace the lifelines. "I'm not even sure I know what love is."

I pull my hand away, cup her chin, and force her to look me in the eyes. Dropping my arm, I try to formulate the proper thoughts in my mind. "Love is waking up and immediately thinking about someone. It's looking into a person's eyes and wanting to stay there forever. It's wondering if your clothes will be acceptable or learning how to sew so you can fix their favorite stuffed animal."

I stop my monologue to ensure that I still have her full attention. "I finally figured out I was hopelessly in love with you because my stomach would lurch every time you smiled. It's all the things I described and it's everything. It's just something you feel, something you know."

I avert my gaze. The weight of what I just confessed is too heavy for me to chance rejection right away. Gaining courage, I once again lock my eyes with hers. The silence is oppressive.

"My mouth goes dry whenever I see you," she says, before sealing our lips in a kiss


	3. Take it on the Run

_AN: I'm kind of rethinking the whole unhappy ending thing, but I can't seem to find the right songs. Hmm..we will see._

**Relationship Speedwagon: Take it on the Run**

Sarah and I moved in together a month after that night in my apartment. We thought about looking for a place, but decided that her suite at the hotel was sufficient. Living together was strange. I'd never done it with anyone that I dated. Sarah had some experience in the matter, although she refused to give specifics. We essentially fumbled our way through the growing pains. I learned to either take a two minute shower or let Sarah go first. She is not a morning person.

Our second night together was particularly humorous. Well, I was actually petrified at the time, but looking back, it's a story to tell the grandkids. Sarah's a very stationary sleeper, while I'm the type who flails around on the mattress. Not being used to having someone else in her bed, Sarah had the same reaction that any agent would to a hand hitting them in the face. She assaulted me. Quicker than I could blink, she had me in a headlock, with a knife poised above the arteries in my neck. In a rather high pitch voice, I identified myself as her affable boyfriend who meant no harm. She pulled her night mask off and gave me a sheepish grin. The knife was still touching skin so I refrained from any anger or humor.

The weeks went by and we were able to settle into comfortable routines. One of those was that I could not spend every waking moment in the apartment playing video games. Although Sarah was relatively understanding about the times that I did play in the apartment, I ended up going over Morgan's place a lot. We would have our mindless conversation and pig out on junk food. It was a happy medium.

The last time I visited my height challenged friend was two weeks ago. It was not a fun night. We were in the middle of Guitar Hero when he nonchalantly swears that he saw what looked like Sarah and Bryce Larkin making out in her Porsche. I laughed and told him that Bryce Larkin was dead. He then told me about a doppelganger he met who went to University of Pennsylvania. I could tell his mind wasn't really into our conversation so I let it drop. By they end of the night, I was bursting with questions and scenarios. Even though he mentioned it as a funny occurrence, he answered them all and tried to remember as much as possible about the five W's.

After that night, I cashed in all of the inadvertent training that my government agent protectors had bestowed upon me. As casually as possible, I enquired as to where Sarah went and made mental notes about her time tables. She'd usually tell me on the weekends that she was going to meet with Casey or do reconnaissance. Calls to Casey quickly confirmed that he had no plans with my girlfriend.

I confronted him one afternoon.

"She's seeing someone else isn't she," I said, entering his apartment.

"Don't you every knock," he replied, ignoring my accusation.

I sank down on his sofa, putting my head in my hands. Looking into his eyes, I pleaded. I essentially begged the hardened agent to give me the truth. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and pulled a folder from his cabinet. Tossing it on the coffee table, he flipped it open and spread the contents across the wooden surface. They were pictures of Sarah, of Bryce, and of the two of them together in some fairly compromising positions. I kicked the table in anger.

"How long?" I needed to know how pissed off I should be. Was the whole thing a lie?

"I figured it out about two months ago," he said, before pausing to look me in the eyes, "Shortly after you two moved in together."

I let out a sound somewhere between a scream and a growl. "Was this all part of her assignment, to get close to me?"

Casey shook his head. "Not that I knew. If it was, it was a CIA only gig."

A few minutes of silence followed his answer and I came to a decision. "Can I borrow a few of these," I asked, pointing to the picture. He nodded his head. I grabbed the one I wanted an left the apartment in a hurry.

Sarah was already home when I get to the apartment. She was getting dressed so I sat on the bed, hiding the pictures under the blankets. Leaning against the headboard, I ran through the things that I wanted to say. She came out of the closet. Her hands were in the air, as she tried to fix her hair. She gave me a smile before turning her attention to the mirror. I forced out a grin, but I'm sure it looked more like I was about to be sick. Grabbing her purse and jacket, Sarah gave me a peck on the lips, saying something about being home later.

"Where are you going," I questioned, starting the ball rolling.

"Casey's. We've got a meeting with the heads and then we need to go over some files," she lied.

"Really? That's strange because I talked to him and he said you guys didn't have to work tonight."

Sarah looked at me in shock. I don't think I'd ever not taken her word about something. She recovered quickly. "It just came up. You must have talked to him before we got the call."

I shook my head. "I don't think so. I was over his apartment twenty minutes ago looking at some troubling photos," I revealed, tossing the pictures at her feet.

She looked at the photos and back to my face several times. I saw sorrow, guilt, and anger reflected in her gaze. To my complete astonishment, she moved towards the door, placing her hand on the knob. My voice cut through the silence.

"Where in the world are you going," I yelled.

She turned back toward me. Her face was anguished. "Chuck, I can't do this right now."

I saw red. "Do what? Explain why you've been screwing Bryce behind my back for the last few months. Hell, maybe you never stopped. It would be just like me to fall for another slut."

I regretted the words once they escaped, even though they were mostly true. However, I refused to take them back. She had a lot for which to answer. I think I was as upset with myself as I was with her. I was so blinded that I didn't notice her strange behavior and lies.

Her eyes widened in shock, but she gave no other reaction. I then noticed her hand tighten on the doorknob. She was going to leave without any kind of explanation. I couldn't believe it.

"If you leave tonight, that's it. You can take your affair and run. I'm through."

At my ultimatum, she released the door handle, sank to the floor, and muttered the words 'I'm sorry' over and over. I had no idea how to react.


	4. Time For Me To Fly

AN: _This is actually a happy ending, just not necessarily a happy Chuck/Sarah ending. _

_**Relationship Speedwagon: Time For Me To Fly**_

_I've been around for you  
I've been up and down for you  
But I just can't get any relief  
I've swallowed my pride for you  
I've lived and lied for you  
But you still make me feel like a thief_

_You got me stealin' your love away  
'Cause you never give it  
Peeling the years away  
And we can't relive it  
I make you laugh  
And you make me cry  
I believe it's time for me to fly_

_You said we'd work it out  
You said that you had no doubt  
That deep down we were really in love  
Oh, but I'm tired of holding on  
To a feeling I know is gone  
I do believe that I've had enough_

_I've had enough of the falseness  
Of a worn out relation  
Enough of the jealousy  
And the intoleration  
I make you laugh  
And you make me cry  
I believe it's time for me to fly_

The weeks following my discovery of Sarah's wanderings were some of the hardest I had ever experienced. Everything was turned upside down, inside out. She sat on the apartment floor apologizing for over an hour. Apparently, she never got closure with Bryce. He showed up a few weeks after we got together. In her words, our relationship scared her and my nemesis offered safe familiarity. She bemoaned her weakness, promising to end it. Her love for me was vocalized profusely.

She asked me to forgive her.

I walked out of the hotel, brushing off her grasping hands.

Not wanting to face my sister's worrying gaze and probing questions, I drove to Morgan's place. He opened the door, saw my face, guided me to the couch, and put a game controller in my palms. We played well into the night. Gathering courage around 1AM, he asked if I wanted to talk about it. I was in no way ready to let someone else in on my pain, so I collapsed on the couch. When I woke up the next day, there were ten messages from Sarah on my phone.

I ignored them, deciding to take a walk.

Thoughts aimlessly flew through my mind. Feelings welled up and disappeared, only to return minutes later. The pain was so much more intense than it had been six years prior. Sarah's betrayal cut in a way that I didn't think was possible. I was so distracted by my musings that I didn't notice their object standing outside Morgan's apartment door, until she spoke.

She wanted to know where we stood, if I could forgive her.

I told her I needed more time.

I stayed with Morgan for days, mulling over my options. There was a large part of me that still loved her. Despite the fact that she had been disloyal in the worst way, I wanted to give her another chance. It went against all sense of male pride. People would think I was crazy. What kind of guy takes back the girl who cheats? I guess it's a guy who has a very large heart, as my sister would say.

Sarah was elated when I told her. She promised that things were over with Bryce and she was willing to work through her issues. I told her I was not moving back into the apartment until I felt more comfortable about our situation. Her face fell at the condition, but she acquiesced. In concern for her status among our circle of friends, I decided not to tell anyone about her transgressions. It hurt to lie to them about why I was living with Morgan, but it was nothing new.

We took our relationship extremely slow. It was almost like the awkwardness that surrounded us during our first few fake dates. Sarah wanted to continue from where we left off, as if nothing had happened. I was not comfortable being overly physical or affectionate. Every time she touched me or muttered terms of endearment, I had a painful flash of her saying and doing the same things with Bryce. I had near panic attacks every time she went off to do something, thinking she wouldn't return.

Eventually I got over my problems. I was still distant with Sarah, but it was for an entirely different reason. She seemed bored, tired, and unsatisfied. My time spent among international operatives did nothing if not improve my power of observation. Her words told me that she was where she wanted to be. However, her body language told a different story. It hurt to think that she was silently yearning for Bryce, for her former life. I may have been able to forgive the cheating, but there was no way I was going to stay with someone who clearly did not reciprocate the same level of investment.

She was in the Weinerlicious when I confronted her. There was a distant look on her face. Sensing my entrance, her gaze locked with mine. A smile came to her face a second later than it should have. She was putting up a front. My chest ached.

"Hey," she said, leaning against the counter.

"Hi," I responded, coming to a stop in several feet in front of her. It was farther away than I normally stood. Her eyes narrowed in concern, sensing the difference.

"What's wrong," she asked.

"We need to talk," I said, making no move to change our positions.

Accepting my terms, she said, "Ok." The two letter word was stretched out in such a way that conveyed her obvious confusion as to what issue could be so serious.

"I want you to leave."

Her jaw literally dropped. "What," she asked incredulously, moving out from behind the counter.

I took a step back at her movement, sitting in the nearest chair. Sarah remained standing, her hands on her hips. I swallowed, trying to gather my thoughts.

"I want you to go back to Washington. I've requested a new handler," I whispered.

Deflating at my words, Sarah took a seat across the table from me. "Why?"

Lifting my head, I said, "You're not happy here. I can tell. You miss being out in the field and doing worthwhile things."

She looked down at her clasped hands. "I want to be with you."

I shook my head. "It's not a strong enough desire."

She didn't argue further. I was astonished by her lack of protest. Apparently, my assumptions had been more true than I realized. Anger and disappointment coursed through me. I had just spent a year of my life with a women who felt very little need to fight for our relationship. My hands clenched into fists. My eyes scrunched, in anguish.

Rising from my seat, I put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at me. There was sorrow in her eyes. I leaned down to give her one final kiss. It was short.

"Goodbye Sarah," I said, slowly walking to the door. I heard a muffled farewell, as I ventured out into the dreary LA weather.

Sarah was gone the next day. It was hard to get over the breakup, even though it was my own doing. Casey said that the new CIA agent assigned to my detail would remain uninvolved in my life. That was fine with me. Morgan asked me to be his semi-permanent roommate. I accepted, hoping that living with another human being would allow me to move on quicker. It beat wallowing in my own pity parties every night.

One of the many downsides of living with my friend was that he did not know how to grocery shop. That meant that every Sunday I braved the frenzied isles of the nearest chain. It was on one afternoon shopping trip, weeks after Sarah's departure, that I met a very intriguing woman.

My cart had a damaged wheel, which I had not noticed upon picking it at the store's entrance. I was so engrossed in watching the wobbly contraption that I didn't realize my carrier was on a collision course. There was minimal damage, but I was more than embarrassed.

"I am so sorry," I said, bending down to pick up the displaced food products.

"No problem," said a very soft voice.

I finally took the time to make eye contact with the victim of my attack. She was average in just about every way, but there was something about her face that struck me. Her smile was infectious.

"I'm Chuck," I said, holding out my hand.

"Lily," she said, grasping my offering.

She fiddled with her hair. I suddenly realized it was bright red. I had never before dated a redhead. It would be interesting.


	5. Happy Alternate Ending

_I promised a happy ending and I finally found some time to force it out. Sorry it took so long._

* * *

My relationship with Lily lasted three months. She was a great girl. Almost everything about her was contrary to Sarah. I think that's why I was so enamored. Lily loved music, particularly country music, which I found strange, but it grew on me. Despite Sarah's initial claims, she did have a sense of humor, even if it was very subtle. Lily had one too. Hers was more apparent, however. She had that way of speaking that was sometimes totally sarcastic and sometimes entirely truthful. I had a fun time trying to discern the two.

Ellie was ecstatic over the relationship. As soon as Sarah was gone, she claimed to have had a bad feeling about 'the girl'. Logically, I knew Ellie was just saying that because she thought it was what I needed to hear, but it angered me. I wanted to jump to Sarah's defense, talk about her passion and kindness. That should have been my first clue that the relationship with Lily was not going to end happily ever after. My sister was talking about babies and weddings after week two, but no such thoughts ever crossed my mind, whereas I thought about those things constantly when I was with Sarah.

It was around week seven when I concluded that I was experiencing the typical rebound relationship. Jill's departure had been so sudden and unexpected that I couldn't even function enough to find someone else to heal the hurt. Sarah's disappearance was at my insistence and I saw it coming from a mile away. As hard as it is for me to admit, since I consider myself a good person, Lily was a distraction from the utter devastation Sarah left in her wake.

We did everything that Sarah and I never had. They were things she probably would have loved. I can picture the jaw dropping look on her face, if she ever found out I played paintball, went to an art museum, camped in a national park, and took a pottery class.

Sarah loved me. I knew she did. The problem was that she never really got to know me. I was always pushing our relationship and it was too late by the time I realized I'd pushed it too far in too short of a span. It was an intense relationship that burned out prematurely. The feelings were there, but the foundation never really formed.

Although our relationship ended, Lily taught me the value of exploring personalities and forming friendship. I was so elated at Sarah's acceptance of my love that I forgot the principles of building a long lasting partnership. Ellie would be ashamed to hear it, considering she sat me down at the age of 15 to read then to me from Teen Magazine.

The two months following my separation from Lily have been lonely, but I feel no compulsion to find companionship. In fact, I think I'm leaving the BuyMore. Even though I love the atmosphere, it's time for me to move on to a career. Every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I attend classes at a local university. I may have been shamed out of Stanford, but the credits I earned still meant something.

No one knows where I go. I make up a different excuse to anyone that asks. I've gotten good at lying over the years. I've also become rather proficient at being inconspicuous, which is how I manage not to alert the neighbor's guard dog. Morgan and I still live together. He's not the worst roommate on the planet. I actually get the feeling that he will soon be asking me to vacate the premises. He and Anna have gotten serious.

Entering my home after another exhausting day of work and school, I toss my bag to the ground. I think longingly about crawling into my heavenly Sleep Number bed, but Casey ordered me to review some new government data. It was more of a threat, actually. He hasn't cottoned on to the fact that I know he's just one big teddy bear.

Aware that I'm in for a long night, I head for the kitchen, flip on the lights, and brew a pot of coffee. I _would _use Red Bull to stave off the sandman, if it weren't for the fact that Morgan drank it all on a dare. As the coffee begins to percolate, I lean my weary body against the counter. I've been going at life a little too hard lately and I'm starting to feel it. My sleep debt is in the trillions, kind of like my secondary employer's, only they play with real money.

Just as the scent of coffee begins to waft through the air, I hear a tentative knock at the door. It's so soft that I doubt if I really heard anything at all. Thankfully, a second, more assured, knock follows the first. Shoving off of the linoleum counter, I make my way to the front door. My curiosity about who could be calling at such a late hour hastens my footsteps.

Without concern for whether or not the person on the other side is friend or foe, I throw the door open, plastering on my customary grin. It falls immediately, however, at the sight before me. I literally rub the sleep from my eyes to confirm that the image in front of me is reality and not some Sleep Number induced dream. When the picture stays intact, I consider closing the door. Warring emotions of joy and anger threaten to drown me. I settle for indignation.

"What are you doing here Sarah," I ask, as if she is the last person in the world that I wanted to find on my doorstep.

Sarah looks stricken by my tone, but I feel no compulsion to show mercy. Through her eyes, I see her mind calculating what response to give. It's a familiar look. She never was totally open with me. There was always thought and restraint to the words she used.

"I was unhappy," she says, as if it answers every question possible.

I am in no mood to pull teeth. Being a relatively patient and forgiving person, I'm surprised to find myself shutting the door in Sarah's face.

"I'm really in no position to care about you happiness anymore," I spit out.

Seeing how truly dead set I am on getting rid of her, Sarah uses her spy honed reflexes to keep the door open. I look at the offending foot for a few seconds, before once more trying to close the door. I hear a small hiss from Sarah, as her foot is compressed on both sides.

"Would you move, please? I have work to do and a life to live," I say, annoyed at her for walking back into my life and at myself for causing her unnecessary pain.

Getting her arms into the mix, Sarah grabs the edge of the door and thrusts is wide open. "Can I please just come in so we can talk," she pleads in anger.

"Fine," I gasp, throwing my hands in the air and walking away. She can deal with the door herself.

Always an efficient worker, Sarah is quickly on my heels as I enter the kitchen. Seeing that my coffee is done brewing, I grab a cup from the cabinet and prepare it in my usual way. I don't offer any to Sarah. Vindictiveness isn't a natural trait of mine, but I can use it when the occasion calls.

Apparently, Sarah didn't desire caffeine because she launches straight into a wordy explanation. "You know it wasn't easy for me to leave right? You have to know that," she says, looking to me for confirmation.

I just raise my eyebrows, refusing to let her know what I thought. She shifts her feet in response.

"Well, it wasn't. I know I didn't put up a fight, but that was because I thought you were right. I was bored and I was dragging you down with me. That's what hurt the most," she continues.

I set my coffee cup down, having had just enough to keep me awake. Crossing my arms over my chest, I give Sarah a pointed look. "You left because you didn't want to hurt me," I question disbelievingly.

She sighs in exasperation. "Isn't that why you did so many things during our relationship? Isn't that why you asked me to go?"

My eyes widen at her words. They ring truer than I would like to believe.

"Partly," I reply.

"I would hope your mind doesn't have too stretch to far to see that I would do those exact same things. I loved you, but it wasn't working. We weren't happy and I didn't know how to fix things," she says.

I nod my head at her words. They make sense, unfortunately.

"That's hard for an agent to take. We're supposed to assess situations and come up with a game plan for the desirable outcome. I think…I think that's part of the reason why I turned to Bryce," she expounds, her voice dying at the end.

My eyes reflect the shock of her words. For an instant, Sarah moves toward me but then decides against it and quickly retreats back to the opposite counter.

"It's not an excuse, just something I realized in my time away," she assures.

"What's the point of all this Sarah," I groan, unwilling to rehash painful history.

Her face tightens. I know she's perturbed at my interruption. There's no doubt in my mind that she practiced our conversation on the flight to LAX and the ride to my house. She never did like having to deviate from strategy.

"The point is that I realized the spy world didn't make me happy either. I was miserable, even more so than you observed in my last weeks here," she reveals.

I'm shocked by her words, but I fight hard no to let it show. "So you figure to give Chuck another try. Maybe the emptiness will be a little more bearable, eh?"

Sarah shakes her head furiously. "No! I know that I was wrong. I thought that I missed being a real agent, but nothing changed when I got out into the world. I was still unhappy."

"So you were discontent in both roles," I state.

"Maybe. Or maybe I wasn't happy here because I thought I was missing out on something. Us breaking up removed the supposed handcuffs, but the despair was still there," she said, trying to make me understand her convoluted reasoning.

"Did you ever think you might just be clinically depressed," I joked. Sarah was not amused.

"No. I think we should give us another shot," she says, dropping her bombshell. I shouldn't be surprised. Why else would she bother to come see me.

"You've got to be kidding me," I say, uncrossing my arms and running a hand through my hair in exasperation.

Sarah doesn't verbally respond. Instead, she gets a determined look in her eyes. Striding towards me, she brings her hands up, grabs the back of my head, and crushes her lips against mine. Flabbergasted, I wave my arms in an attempt to show any strangers watching that I am an unwilling participant in the display. But when Sarah runs her tongue along my lips, I can no longer respond to conscious thought. My body takes over, hands pulling Sarah flush against me. A groan escapes my throat, as I deepen the kiss.

"See! It's still there," she pants, breaking the connection. I lean back onto the counter. Sarah remains close, looking up at me with expectant eyes. Our clothes touch with every breath.

"Of course that's still there. I was always physically attracted to you. Love was the easy part Sarah. It was life that we screwed up," I reason, angling away from her tempting frame.

She just manages to grab my fingertips, turning me to face her stricken figure. Pulling me closer, she places my hand between hers. As she alternates between rubbing and applying pressure, I close my eyes to the emotions that her actions stir.

"Sarah," I sigh.

She pulls my arm down, forcing my eyes open. "Please Chuck. I love you. I know I messed up, but I can make it better. I don't want to regret this and I know I will if I don't give it my all. You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she pleads.

I am insanely conflicted over her words. They're everything I wanted to hear, only a year too late. I still love her, there's no denying that. The question is whether or not I'm willing to give up the balance I've managed to create for a chance at a future with Sarah.

"What about your career, the CIA," I question, trying to stall the inevitable.

"I've asked for an indefinite reassignment to your security detail. They've promised to give me a decent cover job, with the occasional possibility of field missions. It really doesn't matter though. I think I'd leave the CIA, if that's what it took to get you back," she answers, stunning me. Sarah never voiced it, but I had always sensed that the CIA came before me on her list of priorities.

"We need to do this right. No more ignoring life and our problems. We have to get to know each other. I don't want to have to break up with you again," I kid, trying to take some of the seriousness out of my words.

Sarah cuts through the humor, getting right down to the heart of the matter. I see utter relief in her eyes. A juvenile part of me wonders what she would have done if I had turned her down.

"Of course," she assures, pulling me in for another kiss. I can feel the smile on her face. Once our kiss ends, Sarah takes my hand and tugs me down the hallway, towards my bedroom. I have no idea how she knew where it was. Must be some sort of spy thing. When we reach the threshold, I pull her body back to mine. She places her hands on my chest, looking questioningly at me.

"I think that's a little too fast," I say softly.

She grins at me, mirth alight in her blue orbs. "I just want to lay down and talk. I have no idea why your mind is in the gutter," she teases.

I poke her sides in response. She skirts away from me, jumping on the bed. I climb in after her, settling my head on the pillow. Sarah snuggles in next to me. I wrap my arms around her toned body, sighing contentedly. I can't help but think that things are finally going to work out in my life.

The End


End file.
